Matters of The Heart
by djpcjbs
Summary: Missing scene between the portal and Emma arriving back home. Set during Second Star to the Right.


"Hook?" she croaked out, looking up when she heard an old floorboard creak. Her mascara and tears made black trails down her cheeks but she couldn't find it in herself to wipe them away as she focused on the dark figure around the corner. The shadow didn't stop, becoming more and more distant, looking almost in a hurry. She didn't know why she did it, maybe she wanted answers, maybe she couldn't deal with another person abandoning her in less than five minutes, but she called out again.

"Hook!"

She stood up, legs shaking and threatening to collapse her but she continued on, eyes avoiding looking at the seemingly never ending hole in front of her and clumsily ran to the adjoining hallway where he disappeared. Still he continued.

"Killian please!" she yelled after him desperately. Her voice sounded broken and scared, pleading to him with such vulnerability as tears began to well in her eyes again.

He stopped, almost reluctantly, as if fighting himself, and only turned enough to glance back at her. Something in the back of her head marveled at how even in the dark narrow space his eyes could shine so bright.

She was visibly shaking, lip quivering and eyes red on her seemingly emotionless face, but her gaze never wavered as she stared at him for reasons even she wasn't sure of.

All she knew was that she didn't care anymore. She didn't care if someone saw her literally falling apart, she didn't care if he could kill her with a flip of his wrist, she didn't care that she had to now tell her son that he just lost his father for the second time. She just didn't care.

She _couldn't care_.

Because it all hurt too much and the pain was drowning her in the way it always seemed to do whenever it'd show up in Emma's life. It was never subtle or discrete. It was mean and all-consuming and took forever for her to battle through. She just wasn't sure if she had enough strength to fight this time.

"Please," she whispered and, dammit, she wanted to know what she was asking for. They stared at each other for a long time and at the look in his eyes she felt a bubble of guilt growing in her throat. She couldn't seem to swallow it.

"You should go home, Emma," he finally spoke up, his voice barely there in the dark expanse of space. "Your parents have found the queen and I saw them headed that way. It's not safe here anymore."

She wanted to snort at the obvious comment, throw scathing remarks and add reinforcement to her wall while she was at it because too many fucking people were getting through, but she didn't have the energy to play that game. By the frown on Hook's face, it seemed she wasn't the only one.

"Did..." she trailed off, physically unable to continue. She took a moment and forced past the lump. "Did you have anything to do with this?" she finally was able to push out but her voiced still cracked, terrified of the answer she was about to receive. It was irrational but she had to bite her lip to not scream out in physical pain at the remorseful look on his face.

"No," he shook his head, looking almost as devastated as she felt, "I was helping them, but I never would have assisted in this, Emma. Baelfire...he was an innocent and he was only trying to protect you." She brought her hand up to her mouth, shoulders hunching together as if she could physically hold back the sob that broke through as the scene played in her head again. She wasn't sure how Hook knew that Neal was trying to save her or how much he had heard in the first place, the thought making her shudder, but that was chased away as she felt tentative arms slowly envelope her.

She knew they shouldn't, that he was on the bad side and she was the saviour, that she had just confessed her love to another man not more than twenty feet away and that he was fighting for revenge with every bone in his body for a woman long gone, but as she pushed her face into the crook of his neck and clasped the lapels of his jacket in a grip not even death could pry open she once more found that she couldn't care.

She cried, loudly and without restraint, into his chest as his chin rested atop her hair and his hand held her head firmly to him, seeming to cover her from every angle. She felt tiny against his solid figure but didn't shy away. Neither said anything and both decided to ignore the questions about what the hell they were actually doing.

"You'll find him, Emma," he whispered after what felt like eternity, her cries dying as numbing pain filled her chest. "You're true love, ay?" he asked. She expected him to pull back and look at her for the answer to his question but he didn't, not even glancing down at her as she tipped her head back.

"I..." she trailed off. Were they? It was a question she'd been avoiding for a while now, dancing around in the back of her head, tempting her to consider it, to accept it maybe. After Snow and Henry's coaxing, and then what happened just moments ago, she was tempted to say yes. But when Killian asked her...she felt doubt.

Were you suppose to second guess True Love? Maybe it was denial. But then why not with everyone, not just the pirate? It was complex and magic based, and if there was anything Emma was, it was logically and the thoughts of this two perfect souls spiel was enough to make her head hurt.

"I don't know," she breathed out eventually, shock starting to set in, and she wondered if her hesitance was enough of an answer. She looked up at him with wide eyes, not realizing she had been staring at his collarbone for an unknown amount of time, to have that wave of guilt hit her again. And she suddenly realized Neal wasn't the only one she should be worried about.

"Killian..." she began, feeling the need to explain, desperate for him to understand that she could barely register this moment, let alone everything else. The words died on her lips. What could she say? _It's not what it looked like? I can't choose between the two of you because it would be choosing between my past and future? I don't know my own heart enough anymore to tell you the truth? But when I look at you I think I could try?_

"Go home, Emma." His voice was gentle, no malice detected, but it was an order and made her feel helpless enough that, after a moment of grasping for something to say, she obliged.

She felt empty on her way back, like it was an accomplishment to place one foot in front of the other.

The only thought that seemed to leak through was how thankful she was that he let her be the one to walk away.


End file.
